


Shut up and kiss me

by zelda_zee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee





	Shut up and kiss me

Bobby felt his face turn scarlet as Sam and Dean stared at him with wide-eyed, disbelieving looks. Crowley smirked insouciantly from where he leaned casually against the door frame, clearly quite pleased with himself. As for Castiel, Bobby didn’t even want to guess what he might be thinking so he carefully avoided looking in his direction.

Accusations and denials and protestations flew around the room, but Crowley just studied the photo he’d snapped, a fond little smile on his face. Then he winked at Bobby and was gone.

*

Bobby hadn’t meant for it to happen the way it did. There’d been that whole shitty conversation about Death and Crowley needing Bobby’s soul to locate him, and like he’d said to the boys, weighed against the end of the world one single soul hadn’t seem like all that much, and anyway Crowley had promised to return it, even though Bobby really did know better than to trust a demon.

Although it would seem that Crowley was no ordinary demon, and it wasn't just the fancy clothes and the glib repartee, nor was it the veneer of oily sophistication that clung to every crossroad demon like a slimy second skin. Crowley wasn't following any set of rules that were in the playbook they were working from. He was making them up to suit himself, and Bobby knew it was throwing the Winchester boys off balance just as much as it was him.

When the moment came, Crowley bent down over him, hands braced on the arms of Bobby’s wheelchair and said softly, “Give us a kiss then, love.”

Bobby hadn’t moved a muscle, had probably seemed a right idjit too, with that deer-in-the-headlights look that must’ve been on his face. But Crowley was surely accustomed to that kind of reaction, because he’d just smiled, not too unkindly, and kissed him.

Bobby’d never kissed a man in his life; had never particularly felt any desire to; certainly never imagined that he would actually do it - and all of that went double and triple for demons. There wasn’t anything about Crowley that turned Bobby on, because if – and it was a big ‘if’ – at this late stage in the game Bobby was going to decide to bat for the other team, he certainly wouldn’t want to test the waters with a demon.

It’s just that… the kiss was for his _soul_. His _very soul_. That was big. That was HUGE. His soul meant something – meant _everything_ \- to him. Bobby wasn’t going to let it go for just a little peck.

So he kissed Crowley, _really_ kissed him. Crowley made a shocked-sounding huff, and somehow Bobby knew, even though his eyes were squeezed shut, that Crowley’s had opened, that the demon was watching him. He didn’t look, didn’t want to see.

The last person Bobby had kissed was his dead wife and before that, well, it had been a while. But there was no doubt that this kiss was nothing like any other kiss in his entire life. There was a wider mouth and the scratch of stubble and the feeling that, for once, he wasn’t the one in the driver's seat. There was fear and anger and a profound sense of loss. There was the faint aroma of smoke, the certainty that beneath Crowley's sarcasm and suavity there was something old and fathomless and infinitely dark, and there was the painful knowledge that this kiss was an unbreakable vow, just as the kiss he'd shared with Karen on their wedding day had been.

Bobby opened his mouth and again Crowley inhaled in surprise, and Bobby took advantage of that to push his tongue between Crowley’s lips. For a second he felt Crowley stiffen, but then he got with the program and slid his tongue against Bobby's and it was suddenly something altogether different – lots of lip action, lots of tongue, lots of heat. Somehow Crowley’s hand was at the back of Bobby’s head, and his hand was fisted in Crowley’s coat and he was tugging him closer and kissing him deep and dirty and all Bobby could think was _it’s my soul, oh my God, my_ soul _you bastard_.

That’s why it had to be good. That’s why yes, he’d had to use tongue (and Crowley damn well knew it too, when he’d thrown that back in his face).

It was a long, slow, thorough kiss, but like every kiss, it came to an end. Crowley pulled back and there was a strange, pregnant moment when he hovered there, mere inches away, eyes closed, cheeks slightly flushed, and Bobby had the funniest feeling that he was contemplating diving back in for another go.

As for whether Bobby was contemplating it as well, he’d rather not think about that.

In the end, Crowley straightened up with an almost regretful sigh.

“ _Well_.” He looked at Bobby as if he were reassessing everything he’d previously assumed about him. “I haven’t been kissed like that in a _very_ long time.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Ain’t I just?” Bobby muttered. “You got what you wanted. Now get outta my house.”

He wheeled himself toward the living room, in search of the bottle of whiskey he’d left on the coffee table, and when he returned Crowley was gone, and Bobby’s soul with him.

*

“Why’d you do it?” Bobby asked.

They were standing in the yard while the boys loaded up the vehicles. Bobby’s legs were wobbly as a newborn colt’s, but he was standing on them. Wasn’t about to sit down again, not until he fell down.

“Can’t you guess?” Crowley countered.

“I just can’t figure where you stand to gain from givin’ me my legs back.”

“Of course you can’t. That’s because I don’t.” Crowley shoved his hands into his coat pockets, gazed around them with a flat, disinterested stare.

“So?” When Crowley finally met his eyes, Bobby asked again. “Why’d you do it?”

Crowley tilted his head, giving Bobby a look that brought it all back to him – the terror of that kiss, and the goodness of it, and the way that a part of him hadn’t really wanted it to end.

“I’ve been making deals for centuries and I can count on one hand the people who’ve kissed me like you did. I liked it - your pain, and your passion - so I decided it was worth making a little extra effort on your behalf." Crowley shrugged. "Consider it my way of saying thank you.”

Bobby frowned at that. He really would prefer not to be memorable to Crowley in that way. In any way, to be honest. He cleared his throat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it,” he said gruffly. “’Cause it damn well ain’t gonna happen again.”

Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala and gave Crowley a nod, while at the same time Sam and Castiel climbed into the van.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Crowley said, leaning in close with an evil grin. “Unless you want me to hang onto what I’ve got.”

Bobby’s eyes widened and for a second he couldn’t speak at all. “You mean –?”

“That’s right. If you want your soul back we’re going to have to go another round.”

Bobby remained where he was, rooted to the spot, as Crowley sauntered over to the Impala. Before he got in, he turned to Bobby, one hand on the hood and said, "I can’t say I’m dreading the idea."

It wasn't until he heard Sam call, "You coming, Bobby?" that he came back to his senses, shaking his head as if that would get his mind back in the game, where it needed to be.

All right, Bobby thought, so maybe he'd kissed a man - a man who happened to be a demon - and maybe it hadn't been as awful as he'd expected, and maybe he happened to be minus a soul at the moment, but he was up on two feet and he was going hunting, and the world might end tomorrow but it hadn't ended yet.

He'd get his soul back if it was the last thing he did, and if that meant he had to suck face with a demon again, then he'd just have to learn to live with it.

  



End file.
